
Every four years, the Winter Olympics are supposed to offer something rare in modern America: a break from the constant political trench warfare. For a few weeks, the red, white, and blue mean something simple. They mean us. They mean the crest on the jersey, the anthem before the puck drops, and a shared sense that whatever our internal disagreements may be, we stand together when the United States takes the ice. Tribalism at the Olympics for your Country is a good thing; it unites us. When that tribalism is politics, it divides us and makes us all a little worse.
And yet, in recent Olympic competition, there has been a troubling undercurrent—Americans openly cheering against Team USA because they dislike the sitting president.
Let’s be clear about something upfront: disagreement with politicians is not just normal, it’s healthy. Many Americans across the political spectrum distrust elected officials. You can dislike Donald Trump. You can dislike Joe Biden. You can dislike every politician in Washington. That’s your right.
But when political animosity becomes so intense that you root for another country over your own in Olympic competition, something deeper is happening—and it’s not healthy.
The U.S. Men’s Olympic Hockey Team does not represent a president. It does not represent a party. It does not represent a campaign slogan.
It represents American players—kids who grew up skating on frozen ponds in Minnesota, Massachusetts, Michigan, and Wisconsin. It represents families who sacrificed for travel hockey, junior leagues, and college scholarships. It represents players who have nothing to do with political rhetoric or cable news debates.
When people say, “I hope Canada wins because I hate Trump,” they aren’t making a nuanced political statement. They’re collapsing the distinction between government leadership and national identity. They’re conflating elected office with the athletes wearing the crest.
That’s not principled dissent. That’s emotional tribalism.
The Miracle on Ice in 1980 remains one of the most powerful moments in American sports history. A group of amateur American players defeated the Soviet Union in the height of the Cold War. That victory transcended politics. It wasn’t about Jimmy Carter. It wasn’t about party platforms. It was about belief, pride, and unity in a divided time. I hate to tell you this but not many people liked Jimmy Carter in February of 1980, but people did not get pissed off because Walter Mondale the sitting Vice President was at the game or that the team went to the White House to visit with Jimmy Carter after winning the Gold.
Now imagine if Americans back then had said, “I dislike the president, so I’m rooting for the Soviets.”
That would have been unthinkable. It would have been unthinkable because back then people were able to disagree with each other without unfriending each other or even killing each other the way we do today. Civil discourse was a thing back then; we could disagree and when it was over having a beer together and laugh about it. Not anymore, and that’s a shame.
And yet today, the same logic is being applied in softer form—rooting for Canada or another rival nation simply because of who occupies the Oval Office. It reflects how deeply political polarization has seeped into cultural spaces that used to be neutral ground.
It’s not about policy at that point. It’s about identity warfare.
Sports have always reflected society. That’s nothing new. But in recent years, they’ve increasingly become extensions of political identity.
If you dislike a president, that’s fair. Protest, vote, argue your case. But turning Olympic competition into a referendum on domestic politics crosses into something self-defeating. You are effectively saying that partisan dislike outweighs national solidarity in global competition. I hate to tell you this nut our government has been doing bad things for a long time, some things if you knew would blow your mind. That would be from both sides. The Olympics are about love of one’s nation, not one’s government.
And that’s where it becomes troubling.
National teams are one of the few remaining institutions that can unify Americans across race, class, geography, and belief systems. When that gets fractured along party lines, it signals something larger than sports. It signals as a society we are facing a deep crisis, that may not be fixable.
It signals a country that no longer knows how to separate disagreement from disloyalty.
There is a crucial distinction that too many people blur:
You can despise corruption.
You can distrust Washington.
You can criticize leadership.
You can protest policy.
But none of those require you to cheer against your own athletes.
Hockey players representing the United States didn’t draft legislation. They didn’t write executive orders. They trained their entire lives for the chance to wear USA across their chest. Maybe some voted for a candidate you don’t like?
To root against them because of partisan resentment isn’t clever. It isn’t enlightened. It isn’t rebellious.
It’s misplaced. It’s ignorant!
What this phenomenon really exposes is how politics has become a primary identity marker for many Americans. For some, political opposition is no longer about ideas—it’s about cultural opposition. It becomes “If they like it, I hate it.”
That mindset doesn’t just damage political discourse. It corrodes shared civic space.
If the Olympics can’t be neutral ground, what can?
When the anthem plays before an Olympic hockey game or during a medal ceremony, it isn’t a campaign rally. It’s a reminder that beyond elections, beyond scandals, beyond cable news narratives, there is still a shared national story.
Rejecting that because of who sits in office reflects not moral superiority—but political exhaustion turned inward.
The beauty of America has always been that fierce internal debate coexists with external unity. We argue loudly at home—but when representing the country abroad, we rally.
That balance is fragile.
You don’t have to like any politician to appreciate the meaning of a national team. You don’t have to agree with half the country to stand beside them when the stakes are international.
If partisan dislike pushes someone to cheer for a rival nation purely out of spite, that says less about politics and more about how deeply polarized our emotional reflexes have become.
Sports should be an escape from that.
The Olympic ice should be a place where, for a few hours, Americans remember that the crest matters more than the candidate.
And if we lose that—if even the jersey becomes partisan—then we’ve let politics shrink something that was meant to be bigger than all of us.
Let me ask you this, are you so callous that when the late Johnny Hockey’s children were brought on the ice where you not brought to tears? If you weren’t you are nothing more than a cold heartless person.
I do not like our sitting President, I do not like who he ran against in the election, they were both unqualified in my opinion, but I still cheer for MY country, OUR country! And I always will!
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